If I were a painting,
I'd like to be painted and touched,
In the purest shades of blush pink,
And washed with waves of pristine white,
I would like to be stroked with dreamy blue,
But never get the feel of the dreary grey.
Nor would I like fiery red or jealous green.
To mar the perfection of me.
I'd just like to be the blend of colours,
Of emotions and thoughts speckled with doubt,
That fuel artists to create more arts.
And immortalize the uniquely fluid me.